Water quest I

Mexico. Summer 2020. My very first adventure.

I had just graduated from high school and wanted a solo adventure to somewhere warm. I dreamt of tacos, surfing, and ~Spanish Immersion~. I looked for a place while ambitiously packing for a flight two weeks out. Do I take my swim trunks? Bug spray? What about studying for the finals tomorrow?

Before I knew it I was trying to wave down a colectivo in the streets of Puerto Vallarta. From the airport it was a short ride to my glorious private partment.

Now, before I get too far, I should mention my throat was bothering me. It was akin to the somewhat eerie feeling you get right before you get a cold, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from all-you-can-eat tacos.

I dropped off my things, brought pan dulce, and sprinted to the beach. I hadn't been here for more than two hours, and I was already floating in the ocean and chowing down on various beach snacks. As the sun set, I sat and watched the surfers while eating my mini buffet of pizza, tacos de Al Pastor, and mussels.

A first day, a sunset, and tacos

The next day went a bit less fabulous. I woke up with a bad cold, and my entire body was weak. It took me the entire day, but I eventually made it to the town square around 5 pm, motivated by an intense craving for more street tacos and churros. I walked up to the server with the utmost confidence and said, "Hola puedo tener una taco." God, I was hopeless.

On the way back, I met a few to be taxi drivers who offered me their cards, which I kept, unknowingly making the best decision of the entire trip.

The next day was worse. I can only guess I woke up with a high fever, maybe 102°, 103°? I had chills, and my body felt like it had been through an industrial meat grinder. I was sick.

To make matters worse, I had finished my last liter of water the night before and had been living off of street food for days so I had nothing of substance in the apartment. "I'm ok", I thought to myself, "nothing a 2 km walk to the grocery store can't fix." The moment I tried standing up I opened my eyes back in bed. "That's not gonna work."

With some diligence, I rose from the bed and began a slow, entranced waddle through the empty afternoon streets. I worked my way through the many colorful dimensions that are only visible when your feverish brain is melting under the sun. The 20-minute walk took about an hour, but I finally arrived at the store.

Ok, think. I'm here to get...tacos. I grabbed a 2-liter bottle from the shelf and went to the stall to get my daily tacos. I happily ate them in bed after a grueling 1-hour walk uphill and went to sleep. Waking up just an hour later in a panic- The 5 liters of water I had purchased was nowhere to be found and the bed was drenched in sweat. Did I even get 5 liters of water? Where are the groceries? I could not keep a single thought straight and collapsed again into the warm embrace of the mattress.

The next day was worse. My illness landed me in the emergency clinic, where I was stumbling over words for "fever" and "throat pain". My throat was almost entirely closed, and the nurse told me I had to get a steroid shot and penicillin or I'd stop breathing in a few hours. Morbid.

Now, I've always hated needles, and this one was no different. The nurse pulled out a massive needle filled with this thick elixir. She gave me a gentle warning along the lines of "Hey, lots of pain, long, don't move." I complied, as I promptly grayed out mid-shot.

Grayout. Noun. A transient dimming or haziness of vision resulting from temporary impairment of cerebral circulation

I was sent home with a cocktail of drugs and an assurance I'd feel better in a couple of hours. Boy, did that help. I was back to standing up, got myself some food and water, and settled in for the night deciding to take it easy after the "penicillin in the emergency clinic" experience.

The next day was worse. I woke up and immediately felt as though I was breathing through a straw stuffed with a cotton ball. I fumbled around for my phone trying to find the clinic's number to call but I got no response.

Now, do you, my lovely readers, remember that taxi driver's card I kept? Yes, that one. Good.

I pulled it out of my wallet and weakly punched the numbers into a chat. "I need a hospital, my address, please." Faster than you can say "penicillin", he greeted me outside on the ground and helped me into the car.

At the hospital, I was given the same warning, "Painful, long time, don't move", but this time it was cushioned with "Oh you've had penicillin, this is nothing." I blacked out, and the next thing I remember was the nurse asking if I was ready to leave. No, no, I was not.

It seems I'm running out of time for this one, so it'll have to be a two-parter. Stay tuned.